Dudley's Dementor
by Tiberius Jones
Summary: When Dudley is attacked by a Dementor, he is forced to relive his worst memory. See the repressed incident that would change Dudley's life forever following his attack. WARNING: violence and some adult language. Minor alterations of canon.


_I add my thanks to lupinsmoon12391 for great suggestions and Mrs, Rowling for her wonderful characters and world that inspires the imagination_.

  


The cold blackness hovered over Dudley as a freezing dread invaded every part of his mind and body. He could hear himself screaming no, but the blackness did not cease from drawing the warm and pleasant memory of beating up that little ten-year-old an hour before. His mind turned in upon itself. Dark thoughts overpowered him.

He tried to fight it. He punched hard with his left hand but did not connect with anything solid. Slowly, he was drawn back to his first day at Smeltings. He was dressed in his impressive burgundy and orange uniform.

He twirled his walking stick in his pudgy hands confidently as he walked into the entrance. Then, suddenly, there were three large boys standing in front of him. He stared, but they were unmoving. When he tried to go around them to the left, he was pushed back.

_This was not supposed to happen on the first day_, he thought to himself. Dad had been very explicit about this. Bullying did not start until they were assigned to their houses. That was at least four hours from now.

He thought hard about what he should do. His face screwed up into a rolly purple blob. He struck out suddenly with his stick, aiming for the large knee directly in front of him.

Dudley's intended victim placed his own stick firmly in front of himself and Dudley's bounced hard against it with a large _crack_, but did not come close to hitting the bare knee.

There was a blur from Dudley's left. Another boy struck Dudley hard in the stomach with his stick. Dudley doubled over with a loud _oof_. They laughed at him. Blind with rage Dudley struck out again, flailing widely. The only thing his stick hit, though, was the trophy case with a resounding crash of glass.

The boys laughed harder. They all struck him mercilessly in unison as a loud cry came from one of the professors who was hurrying down the hall to investigate the cause of the noise.

Staring at the three boys standing over Dudley, he asked who was responsible for all the broken glass. They all pointed their sticks at Dudley.

"We captured the culprit," said the largest boy. "He was swinging his stick and broke it, so we detained him for the authorities."

"Na dwoo," said Dudley, trying to talk through his swelling lips.

The professor grabbed Dudley by the scruff of his neck and pulled him in the direction of the dean's office. Upon arriving, Dudley was told to sit down and wait for the dean who would see Dudley at his convenience. Dudley nodded his head that he understood.

Dudley had to wait two hours, his face swelling even more. When finally called into the dean's office, he was made to stand in front of the large wooden desk.

"I understand you maliciously smashed the trophy case, is that right, Master Durby?" the dean asked sternly.

"Na dwoo, Bean," Dudley sputtered.

"Well, Master Durby, integrity is one of our highest qualities here at Smeltings," the dean boasted.

"Ma nam ib Durby, na Durby," Dudley tried to say.

"Stand over here," replied the dean, pointing to the corner of his desk.

Dudley walked around the desk to stand where he had been told. The dean had withdrawn a long bamboo rod.

"Since you do not wish to be truthful, I have no choice. Hold out your hand, palm up," instructed the dean.

Dudley reluctantly presented his right hand. He screamed as the cane was brought down across the hand. The burning was fueled by second and third swats. Tears leaped from Dudley's screwed up, beady little eyes.

"Now, Durby, you will report to detention after orientation. You are free to go," he said curtly, dismissing Dudley.

Dudley held his burning hand under his armpit. He was sure this was not supposed to happen on the first day. He could not wrap his feeble mind around what had gone wrong. Espying a WC, he walked in and ran his bruised palm under the cold water of the tap.

While enjoying the soothing water, he was interrupted by another staff member.

"Who are you?" demanded a large professor.

"Ahm Dubby Durby," Dudley mumbled.

"You are supposed to be in orientation, Durby. You will report to me afterwards for detention," the professor told him. "Now get out of here and to the auditorium."

"Yed, Buh," said Dudley, dejectedly.

Unsure exactly where the auditorium was, Dudley walked through various hallways looking for any sign of it. The place was deserted. He could not even find a member of the staff to ask. He found himself back near the entrance where the broken glass was still lying about.

"Ah, had to return to the scene of your crime did you?" said the first professor, who had taken him to the dean.

"Na, Buh," said Dudley, almost crying, "Ahh lubin ba da abidorum."

"Don't talk gibberish to me. Here," the professor spat, pushing a broom at Dudley. "Clean up your vandalism, you criminal!"

"Yed, Buh," Dudley answered dolefully.

He began sweeping the shards of glass into a large pile and then onto a dust pan. Looking around, Dudley could not see a trash bin. He walked back up the hallway, knocking on the first door he came to.

There was no answer so he tried to open the door. He found it was not locked and entered, finding a bin for the glass. As he turned to leave, the large professor from the toilet walked in and stopped abruptly, glaring at Dudley.

"Why are you in my office after I told you to go to the auditorium?" he shouted at Dudley.

"Na brobeder. Ahh wud lubin ba ah drab bun," Dudley wept.

"Place your hands on the edge of my desk," he told Dudley, removing a large paddle from the corner and walking behind him.

Dudley's eyes were large and glassy. The smack of the hard wood connecting with his backside scared Dudley more than the burning pain spreading across his fat arse. Dudley jumped a half-dozen times, one for each swat.

"Now, get to the auditorium or I will see you expelled from Smeltings, do you understand me?" the professor bellowed.

Dudley was shaking his big round head that was leaking tears all over the floor. Dudley left at a run, but in the hall, he had no idea which way to go.

His tear streaked, bloated face was screwed up tight. He stumbled his way down the hall until he came to a large staircase. He climbed the stairs, hoping he would find the auditorium soon. His hand and bum ached terribly. He could still taste blood in his mouth and his left eye nearly swollen shut now. He was a pathetic sight to see.

Just as he stepped upon the landing, there was a torrent of noise as students began emptying from the first door to the left. They were smiling and chatting, but as they saw Dudley, they pointed and began laughing very hard. Dudley was mortified. He ran back down the stairs, nearly bowling over the first professor he had met this morning.

"I say! I have had just about enough of your violent behaviour, you ruffian," he told Dudley.

Dudley was crying large tears now. He tried to plead with the professor, "Ahh lubin ba da abidorum!"

"I told you before to stop talking gibberish. Follow me!" he ordered Dudley, who followed him to the professor's office.

Removing a ruler, he told Dudley to hold his left hand out, palm down. Three sharp whacks brought large red welts across his knuckles and more tears from Dudley.

"You will get some lunch and report to the auditorium afterwards. Then, you will see me for detention after that. Now get out of here and don't let me find you perpetrating more mischief in this fine institution."

Dudley left, holding his hand tightly, he knew where the auditorium was now. But, he had no clue where to find the dining hall. He decided to wait in the auditorium and figure things out afterwards, despite his protesting stomach.

He went back upstairs and nervously peeked into the first room to the left. He saw a semicircular room with a large number of benches rising into the shadows. He entered and made his way to the top row, skulking into the shadows of a far corner, determined not to leave until there was someone to follow.

After twenty minutes, his nerves began to calm down. He was feeling his swollen eye and mouth. The door burst open noisily and the three brutes from this morning entered. Those wankers were the cause of all his problems.

Afraid to move, he watched them from the shadows. One of them wrote "_Professor Bonds likes Bondage_" on the blackboard as his mates laughed. The largest boy found a few pins in a desk drawer and placed them pointy-side up on the professor's chair.

They began talking about Professor Bonds' funny walk; the boy who had written on the board was mimicking his hobble. They had no idea it was from a war wound received while he was with the Royal Commandos in the Falkland's war. Granted, he was only a clerk and was wounded by his own rifle misfiring.

Dudley was trying to be invisible. He wondered if this was how Harry felt. He quickly dismissed the thought. Harry had it easy compared to this nightmare. The three boys began to throw a small globe to one another. 

They threw it farther and farther until one of them noticed Dudley, cowering in the corner.

"Oy!" he shouted, pointing to Dudley's corner, "It's that prat from this morning." The other two boys looked up to where he was pointing.

"Come down here, git!" shouted the largest boy.

They rushed up the aisle and grabbed Dudley, dragging him down to the floor of the Auditorium. They began harassing him with insults. Two of them held Dudley's arms as the third gave him a wedgie, pulling so hard that they heard his underpants tearing.

They let go and Dudley tried hard to pull his shorts out from his bum crack. He was forced to open his knickerbockers and reach inside, pulling the tightly bunched material downward.

He was up to the elbow in his trousers when the door opened and the professor and a large number of students began filtering in. Dudley froze, bent over, his trousers open and both hands inside between his legs.

Professor Bonds looked at him, then at the other three, he demanded to know what was going on as more and more students came in, all sniggering at Dudley.

"Well, Professor Bonds, we came in and found this berk writing bad things about you on the board. Then he pulled his 'bockers down giving us a moon," explained the largest boy.

"That's right, Professor," chimed in the other two.

Looking at the board, Professor Bonds turned to Dudley saying, "Get your breeches up and report to the dean's office. This behaviour is completely unacceptable."

Dudley was in tears again, he buttoned his trousers and slunk meekly from the auditorium. Sitting in the dean's outer office, he was sobbing. The dean walked to his doorway, looking sternly at Dudley.

"Get in here, Master Durby!" he said through clenched teeth.

Dudley felt himself being sucked from the dean's office, the cold despair creeping slowly from his body and mind. He opened his eyes tentatively, seeing Harry standing over him, his wand held at arms length. He was saying something to him, but he couldn't hear Harry.

Dudley vomited violently as Harry helped him to his feet. He did not recall the rest of the night.


End file.
